The Days of Mohammed eBook

“Spirits of the stars, show me God. If
this Jesus be indeed the Son of God, show me him.
Give me faith, such faith as had he of the withered
hand, that I too may stretch forth my hand and be made
whole; that I may look, and in looking, see.”

This was his prayer. Ah, yet, the “spirits
of the stars” were as a bridge to the gulf which,
he fancied, lay between him and Infinite Mercy.

CHAPTER III.

YusufmeetsAmzi, theMeccan.

“Mecca’s pilgrims,
confident of Fate,
And resolute in heart.”

—­Longfellow.

The next morning, Yusuf, against the remonstrances
of Musa and his wife, prepared to proceed on his way.
Like the Ancient Mariner, he felt forced to go on,
“to pass like night from land to land,”
until he obtained that which he sought.

When he was almost ready to depart, a horseman came
galloping down the valley, with the news that a caravan,
en route for Mecca, was almost in sight, and would
make a brief halt near the stream by which Musa’s
tents were pitched. Yusuf at once determined to
avail himself of the timely protection on his journey.

Presently the caravan appeared, a long, irregular
line—­camels bearing “shugdufs,”
or covered litters; swift dromedaries, mounted by tawny
Arabs whose long Indian shawls were twisted about their
heads and fell in fringed ends upon their backs; fiery
Arabian horses, ridden by Arabs swaying long spears
or lances in their hands; heavily-laden pack-mules,
whose leaders walked beside them, urging them on with
sticks, and giving vent to shrill cries as they went;
and lastly a line of pilgrims, some trudging along
wearily, some riding miserable beasts, whose ribs shone
through their roughened hides, while others rode, in
the proud security of ease and affluence, in comfortable
litters, or upon animals whose sleek and well-fed
appearance comported with the self-satisfied air of
their riders.

A halt was called, and immediately all was confusion.
Tents were hurriedly thrown up; the pack-mules were
unburdened for a moment; the horses, scenting the
water, began to neigh and sniff the air; infants,
who had been crammed into saddle-bags with their heads
out, were hauled from their close quarters; the horsemen
of Musa, still balancing their tufted spears, dashed
in and out; while his herdsmen, anxious to keep the
flocks from mixing with the caravan, shrieked and gesticulated,
hurrying the flocks of sheep off in noisy confusion,
and urging the herds of dromedaries on with their
short, hooked sticks. It was indeed a babel,
in which Yusuf had no part; and he once more seized
the opportunity of looking at the precious parchment
To his astonishment, he perceived that it was addressed
to “Mohammed, son of Abdallah, son of Abdal
Motalleb, Mecca,” with the subscription, “From
Sergius the Monk, Bosra.”

Here then, Yusuf had, in perfect innocence, been entrapped
into reading a communication addressed to some one
else, and he smiled sarcastically as he thought of
the inquisitiveness of the little Jew who had taken
the liberty of “just peeping in.”